


Roommates

by Thatsageperson



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatsageperson/pseuds/Thatsageperson
Summary: Tobin and Christen were randomly assigned freshman college roommates just before they graduated high school. They talked for 5 months, and Tobin knew that she was head over heels. But when Christen rejected her after reading some texts she definitely should not have, Tobin thought she'd lost her chance. Tobin tried her hardest to get over Christen, but here she found herself, straddeling the girl of her dreams and holding a butter knife to her neck, telling Christen that she'll only get off if she can kiss her.She definitely shouldn't be doing this. She's so screwed.*One shot. Hope you enjoy. :)





	Roommates

Things had been leading up to this. 

The two of you had been flirting relentlessly for almost 5 months. It started when you were assigned to be roommates. She sent you an email introducing herself and giving you her phone number, you texted her, and the two of you hit it off immediately. 

Now she was on her back. And you were straddling her. And threatening her with a butter knife to kiss you. 

You’d thought about it a million times, what it would be like to kiss her. What it would be like to stand behind her, with your arms wrapped around her waist. What it would be like to look into her eyes and then out at a gorgeous scene before you, and know that she was more beautiful than any other creation on earth. 

That was the first thought you’d shared seriously about the two of you being something… more. It was a month after you’d started texting her everyday. A week after that, facetime calls lasting more than fours hours frequently started stretching into the night, until you were happily losing sleep just to talk to her for one more minute. Or many. 

Three weeks later and you were used to talking to her every night. But high school graduation came and went, and a family trip to a lake that your father frequented in his youth came upon you before you realized it. Four days without cell service had seemed realistic enough when the trip was booked, but when the trip was booked you weren’t facetiming your soon-to-be college roommate every night for four hours. 

That night you laid on the house boat sofa and looked out across the lake and the Arizona red rocks and imagined her standing against the railing of the boat with you staring at her lips instead of the gorgeous sight in her eyes. The image had flooded your brain before you gave it permission to do so, and as soon as it faded you felt your heart beat in your chest and heard the chants of “don’t fall in love with her, Tobin” that your friends had relentlessly pushed into your ears in the weeks before you graduated. 

You couldn’t stop showing them pictures. She was just so beautiful… and her hair was so long. People normally commented on her curly brown locks when they saw your go to “show other people Christen” picture (one of many saved to your camera roll). Everyone could see the writing on the wall. 

That night on the lake you finally saw it, too. 

And now, four months later, after trying your hardest to get over her, she was on her back. You were straddling her, with a butter knife gently pressed against her throat. The two of you had been binge watching a crime show on your floor where this exact scene played out after you had gotten back from hanging out with Alex, the girl you were trying to fuck into oblivion until you forgot about how badly you wanted Christen. 

Alex had returned the favor, but she was never truly yours and she wouldn’t let you forget it. Every time she picked up her phone, she’d show you a text from _Servando. _The newest, hottest, boy toy that she’d found to play with. He was older and a major player, but Alex couldn’t get enough of the slight minutes of attention he was starting to pay her, and more frequently so with every passing day. 

The sex with Alex had started out fun, in the back of your car in the parking garage at 2am on a Tuesday night. You and Christen had a “no sex in the room if the other one was in there” agreement that you were intent upon sticking to, not just to respect her boundaries. 

You hadn’t really wanted her to know, at first. But of course she immediately found out the next morning when you found yourself needing to ask her for a scarf before she left for class. She could read you like a book, and she encouraged your fling with Alex. But you’d noticed that she seemed a little… _too _enthusiastic when she’d helped you pick out what to wear before your first date with your shared friend. 

It didn’t help that you’d walked out of the bathroom in just an underwire bra and boxers. Christen was a bit quiet before she jumped right into helping you pick out an outfit and you let innuendo after innuendo fall from your lips, enjoying the flustered look that graced her cheeks every time she heard your words (or you caught her staring at your chest). 

Things with Alex weren’t going great, though. You’d gone on some dates, and she’d let you say that you were “dating”, but you _were not _girlfriends. Especially when she sat on your lap and asked you for advice on how to flirt with Servando. 

You were a good friend. You were good at flirting. So you spoke the words you probably would have said to Christen if you’d received a text like that from her. 

Butterflies fluttered in your chest as you though about the possibility of that. 

But then a small knife turned in your gut when Alex typed them out and hit send on a message to someone else. 

You walked back to your room that night pissed off. Pissed off that Alex had put you in that position. She was literally sitting on your lap and kissing you seconds before she’d gotten the text. Pissed off that when she asked you to hit her during sex, you did, and it wasn’t just because she wanted you to. You were pissed off at how well she treated you until she was being sketchy about kicking you out of her room so she could clean it. 

When you walked into your room and saw Christen sitting in her desk chair working on homework, all you wanted you do was walk right up to her, throw your legs over hips, and kiss her senseless. But then you remembered that constant flirting didn’t equate dating, especially since she had explicitly rejected you a few months before with a panicked "I can’t date my roommate” after she accidentally read some texts she wasn't supposed to. You couldn’t kiss her. 

And yet, here you were, not two hours later, straddling her _on the floor_ and threatening to do that very thing. 

_And she was saying yes. _

This was fucking surreal, and you had no idea what to do. 

You were technically dating Alex, but she was “cleaning her room” after she’d been sending more than suggestive texts to Servando that you had helped author. 

Did you care? Absolutely.

But not right now. 

Not when the girl of your dreams was under you, on her back, saying that she was willing to kiss you. 

What did your stupid brain care about? The fact that she was saying yes to kissing you, because you were threatening her with a butter knife. A god damn butter knife. How annoying is that? She was probably just saying yes to get you stop being so weird. 

Right? 

She couldn’t mean it. Right? 

You looked up from your hand on her neck to her eyes, looking straight into yours. Or was she looking at your lips? She definitely was looking at your lips. You were pretty close to her, and she was definitely looking down, but she couldn’t actually be looking… there… Right? 

Her tendency to look at your lips while talking was something that had not gone unnoticed by you since you moved in together. You’d talked about it with Alex and Kelly, and they both were interested. But you weren’t really sure. 

The worst thing about your situation honestly was Alex and Kelly’s reaction to telling them anything about Christen. You’d slept with both of them, and they were your closest friends. You and Alex were dating, or whatever, and you’d had a threesome with Kelly one night when you were all drunk out of your mind. Kelly and you slept together again the weekend before the present after Alex pissed you off and you knew you wouldn’t be able to come home to Christen without doing something you’d regret (like tell her you were in love with her because you were exasperated about something else). Kelly hadn’t missed the opportunity to drill you about Christen in the drunken haze of you both walking home from the billiard tables so you could both get a little much needed release.

They’d both told you that they thought Christen was into you, but they seemed to forget the fact that she had literally rejected you. 

They were interested in Christen looking at your lips because they thought she was into you, but you had been sleeping with Alex, and now Kelly, entirely because you were trying to get your mind off Christen and the entire mess in which you found yourself because were entirely, head over heals, whipped in the ass in love with her. 

Christen encouraged your escapades, saying she was living vicariously through you, and it made you want you to slam your head into a wall because her encouragement in addition to the encouragement from Alex and Kelly was so very confusing. Did any of them really want you at all? Or did they just want you with each other? 

Or did Christen want you now? Here, with a butter knife pressed to her neck and you not daring to look anywhere but your hand and her eyes. 

Her looking anywhere but your eyes, because she was absolutely staring at your lips. She had been, through your entire mental discourse over whether or not that was what she was doing. 

Your left arm was on the ground next to her head, and you felt her left hand slowly come to your thigh, starting at your knee and tepidly traveling up. You could practically hear your heartbeat in your ears.

She wasn’t done making it beat, apparently, and she must have noticed your hesitation at the fact that you were literally holding a knife to her neck, because she brought her right hand up to wrap around yours. She pulled your hand from where it was resting at her collarbones, and carefully maneuvered her fingers to pull the aluminum utensil from your hands and place it on the ground. 

Her left hand was on your thigh, and her right hand was back around yours bringing it to her face. Bringing it to cup her cheek. Bringing it a place from which you both probably couldn’t turn back. 

You let out the breath that had been suspended in your lungs and felt your hand grip a little harder than was likely necessary at her cheek bone. You glanced at her lips, and all of the moments similar to this one flashed through your head. 

The time when you were camping right before school started, and neither of you could sleep with the sound of the snoring from your friends, so you stared at the stars all night and talked. The time she was crying because she was so homesick and you wrapped her in your arms and made her dance offbeat to dumb pop music that you knew she secretly loved. The time when she was really sick, after having just suffered a concussion from soccer, and you cleaned up her vomit without complaining. 

She knew how hard that was for you from the way you’d complained about cleaning up gross stuff before, but neither of you commented on it. Instead she just started at you with eyes of adoration as you washed your hands and walked over to her bed to whispered in her ear, “only for you.” 

During all of those moments, the thick unspoken air between you felt tangible, and you were waiting for her to tell you that she rejected you out of obligation and felt the same things you did when you texted your friend to freak out over the fact you were in love with her. She wasn’t supposed to read those messages, but she had, and now you were back staring at each other’s lips and you couldn’t shake the fact that _you were not allowed to be doing this. _

She had told you no. 

You had respected that. You had promised her you would and that you had never intended for her to find out your feelings, and she had promised things wouldn’t be weird. Then it was like you both forgot it ever happened. 

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when you kept finding yourself pressed against her and thinking that in any other situation, with any other girl, you would make a move because you’d be certain the signals she was sending were in your favor. 

Christen was different, though. Christen mattered, and messing this up because you kissed her when she didn’t want you to could ruin your living situation completely. She was your roommate after all. 

So when she fists her hand in your shirt and pulls slightly, you don’t move. You let her hand hang there slightly, and your heart is probably being run by a very loud pacemaker connected to an amplifier, because you’re not sure how it’s moving on its own right now but it is and it’s deafening. 

You see her lips move before your brain registers what she’s saying, and honestly you’re not surprised that you don’t understand the utterance right away, but when it clicks you almost faint. 

“Tobin, just kiss me already.” It’s desperate and breathy and _hot_ and you find your body obeying the command before you can even process the fact that this is happening. 

_This is actually happening_. You’re leaning in and she’s pulling on your shirt and you are going to kiss and your mind is taking everything in through millisecond long snapshots that you hope to treasure for the you of your freaking life. 

When it happens, you feel like flying. You feel like soaring through the air with her in your arms and shouting to the entire the world that this, _this _is what you had yearned for when you were 14 years old and making out with guys searching for proof that you weren’t gay. 

When you kissed a girl for the first time, you had definitely felt butterflies, and it was enough to clue you into the fact that whatever feeling you were trying to find with guys just wasn’t possible, you were undeniably a homosexual, but it hadn’t been this. 

This was what JK Rowling was talking about when she made Harry and Ginny kiss in the Room of Requirement in the sixth book. This is what inspired film makers to make masterpieces of love inspired by the beauty they had only found in their person. This is what you had dreamed of when the thought of love with a man quite literally made you nauseous when you were 12. 

Christen was it, Christen was every thing. The first touch was gentle, and lips were merely pressed against each other but weren’t moving and your hand pulled desperately against her jaw just to bring her closer to you and convey the passion that you were ready to give but didn’t know if she was ready to receive. 

Her lips eagerly responded to yours and you weren’t processing it fully because _Christen was kissing you. _

Who would have thought that a random roommate assignment could have turned into this? 

You weren’t sure how it happened, but you were definitely thanking God. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh okay so tbh I haven't written fic since I was like 13 and this is very much based off my life. Lmk if any of y'all have any suggestions. Thank you for reading!!! <3


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